Cloak and Dagger
by Laterala
Summary: Cloak-and-dagger is an expression that usually refers to keeping something secret...A relationship, in this case, between Harry and Fred. (Slash)
1. Muse

Chapter I: Muse

It had started out as a cold, somber morning at Hogwarts that day. And what it had ended up as was... Well, anything but that. Fred Weasley awoke while the windows were still openings to the black dawn, clutching the blankets around him and burying his face into his pillow. His teeth chattered violently and his feet had grown icy cool, his skin slick with invisible frost. He turned over and pulled back the curtains of his bed and stared out at the February sky. Fred slipped a sweater over his head and continued getting dressed while listening enviously to the whistling breaths of George while he slept.

i It must be one o'clock in the morning by the looks of it outside, /i he thought. He stood up and dug his shaking hands into his pockets and headed out to the common room. Fred smiled as he sunk into a chair by the inviting fire place and felt sleep wash over him again. He was drowsy with warmth, and soon enough he was drifting into a light sleep where a dream was already awaiting him.

Fred was outside, perched on the last bleacher of the Quidditch stands. He was watching someone fly in circles among the thick, grey fog. The snitch shimmered, the only ray of light throughout the entire field. The figure on the broomstick continued flying, dodging and soaring throughout the air carelessly. The snitch took a sharp turn and disappeared again into the mist. Fred leaned back and watched lazily with the feeling that the rider could catch the snitch at any time if they really wanted to. He turned from the game and looked over his shoulder at the castle. On such a bleak day he would usually be inside with George, trying to finish up an essay long past due or playing a game of chess with Ron or Ginny. But today the building looked desolate and bare, and Fred found he would be content to sit outside in the frigid breeze, watching the hooded figure ride his broom effortlessly after the snitch.

Time flew by and Fred became desperate for the snitch to be caught, "C'mon!" he hissed, "You've been on that bloody broomstick for hours! At least let me have a go!" His words, although irritated and scornful, were quiet, and yet somehow heard by the player. They dove towards the stands and slowly came to a halt. The broom dropped onto the ground and the rider strode towards Fred, his face shrouded by a heavy crimson hood and fog.

"It's about time." Fred said loudly.

The rider continued walking towards him and did not stop until he was close to the twin, so close Fred could feel the warmth radiating off of his tired body. They were perfervid and soft to the senses and Fred stood to walk towards them in return. He let his arms travel along the curves of their shoulders, the ardent feeling sinking into his own skin and he felt happiness wash over him in an immeasurable wave.

"I know. I've been waiting for you," they replied. Their voice was heavy with emotion that Fred found he couldn't place with his own state of mind. They embraced Fred in a sudden, intimate hug, their arms enveloping him, but he didn't mind at all. The ecstatic feeling became all the more intense and Fred wanted to never let go of this person.

"Who are you?" he asked thoughtlessly, letting his head rest on their shoulder. They ran their hand over his damp, disheveled red hair and allowed their mouth to brush against the top of his head.

"It's me, Fred." The masculinity of their words suddenly brought the warmth Fred had been feeling turn glacial and offensive. He reached for their hood and began to pull it slowly from their face.

Fred became languid at what he saw. Standing before him, so close that he could see the raw flesh of scar tissue in a vehement, odious way that he had never experienced before, was an all too familiar face. A pale hand brush a mess of cabalistic black hair over the scar so that Fred's eyes traveled from his forehead to his sparkling, emerald eyes like two small pools of profound beauty that stared back at him with unexplainable fear and passion.

"Harry." he breathed.

"What?"

The words broke the image of the dream and Fred came out of his sleep startled. He opened his eyes to find his friend Harry Potter standing in front of him, a serious look hung over his handsome face.

"Huh?" Fred sat up and looked around, "What- where are your robes?"

Harry laughed, "Were you dreaming about Quidditch again? The game isn't for another week, but I thought I'd go out practicing this morning. It's getting light...You want to come?"

Fred was breathless with a strange panic creeping over him, "N-no, I... I'm still tired. Didn't sleep a wink last night." He got up, his body shaking and moist with sweat from sleeping so close to the fire place. His face felt rough and flushed and he was awkwardly panicked overall.

Harry nodded and set off with his broom over his shoulder. Fred watched, his eyes still tender with sleep. The dream had left him so abruptly that now he felt empty. He began up the stairs to dormitory again and stepped into the room briskly, as though an omniscient Harry was going to come rushing after him, demanding what Fred had been doing dreaming about him in such a vaguely utopian way. He looked out the window to see that Harry was right- It was becoming light out. Sunshine was beginning to stream across the center of the room's rug. He stood in the ray of light and watched the window, seeing nothing but sky and droplets of fresh white snow. He pressed his hand against the window, leaving prints on the streaked glass, waiting for something he could not illustrate.


	2. Juxtapose

Chapter II: Juxtapose

Harry landed on the firm ground of the Quidditch field. He was sore and stung all over from the great gusts of wind and hours of lonesome practice. He didn't know whether or not to go inside for breakfast or skip it all together. Lately, what with Ron and Hermione becoming secretive and exclusive, he did not feel the same loyal compatibility he used to with his two best friends. He could imagine what was going on between the two and accepted it, but it was hurtful all the same, and he wished to distance himself from it. In fact, he had decided to try and find himself some new friends. Last night he had walked Neville to his detention and waited for him in the library, after previously spending the evening with Seamus and Dean.

He went and locked his broom away with the others and sat in the Quidditch locker room, pondering over what to do, yet aware of his limited time as he had double Potions in another forty minutes. Just as his thoughts were becoming less constructive and he doubted he would be going anywhere before Snape's class began, he heard the door opening and saw Fred Weasley walking towards the broom closet, his head hung in brooding contemplation.

"Fred!" Harry leapt up, glad for an excuse to find some sort of activity.

Fred turned and looked at him and Harry watched as the expression drained from his face, "Oh," he said skeptically, "H-hi...What are you doing out here?"

"Practicing, remember? I asked you if you wanted to come with me..." The two stared at eachother for awhile and then looked away, each of them trying to find something to talk about. Harry cleared his throat, "So... Have you and George spent any of that gold yet?"

Fred smiled, the stiff look easing away, "Yeah. George and I got Ron some new dress robes like you said. We haven't found any premises for the shop, but we've got a mailing service with order forms and everything. We've been experimenting a lot with things...Candy and the lot, you know."

"Yeah."

The conversation died away and Fred broke from Harry's interested gaze to stare at his own feet.

"Listen, do you want to come out and practice with me?"

Harry shook his head, "No, I was just heading to breakfast."

"Some other time then." Fred picked up his room and strode away quickly, sensing Harry might say something else to him.

But Harry was picking up the strained friendliness from Fred and couldn't understand it at all. Was it because of the galleons he had given the twins after the Triwizard Tournament? Did Fred think Harry wanted something in return? Or maybe he was worried that Harry wanted the money back...

Whatever it was, Harry decided, it was trivial and he wanted it dealt with. He couldn't afford another constrained friendship. He ran out the door and to the Quidditch field, "Fred!" he called. The twin was mounting his broomstick and stopped as he heard Harry's voice. Harry sprinted towards him, afraid he might pretend not to have heard him and fly off. Harry himself had left his broomstick inside.

"What?" Fred dropped the broom looking hostile.

Harry hesitated and caught his breath before saying, "We need to talk."

Fred's eyes darted away from his, "What about?"

"You. You've been acting so strange lately. If it's anything to do with the gold I want you to know that it's all yours. Honest."

"It's not about the gold, Harry."

Harry stared at Fred in confusion. Had he done something to offend him?

Fred beckoned Harry to come sit with him. They did so and Harry noted how Fred made sure to be a reasonable distance from him, "Have you ever had a girlfriend, Harry?" he asked casually.

Harry shook his head, any memory of Cho had been dispelled from him at the moment.

"Have you ever... had a... another sort of one?"

"Like what?" he asked naively. Fred blushed as Harry continued to look at him with no idea as to what he was going to say.

"Well... I think... I'm not so much like George." he finished lamely.

"I know you're not like George."

"No, I mean, there's something that I could never tell George, because he could never understand."

"I'll understand, Fred."

Fred looked down at his feet, "I've got this friend-"

"Lee?"

"Yeah," Fred lied, "And he's been having these feelings about another guy."

Harry's eyes grew with interest, "Lee's gay?"

"And he doesn't know what to do about it." Fred stopped feeling so afraid of the subject since Harry was under the impression that it was Lee he was worried about. He found himself telling Harry everything he had wanted to, "Lately every time he sees him, it's like he can't breathe. He just wants to reach out to this guy but he's afraid to because he doesn't know what the guy will do."

"I think he should just do it." Harry said. His voice had changed from keen with interest to the understanding and knowledgable, the sort of voice Fred had hoped Harry would speak to him in.

Fred looked back at Harry, "Do what?"

"Just go up to him and say what he feels."

"But what if the other guy gets upset or tells other people what happened or-" he stopped. Harry's hand was cupped beneath his chin. His hand was warm and soft, just as he had imagined it would have been. Their eyes were cohered to the other's and a separation of them would be impossible now. Fred began shivering. He was freezing cold, but Harry was dripping with inextinguishable heat.

"You're afraid that I'm straight." Harry whispered, "You're afraid that you might love me because I'm the only one that you think can take care of you," he leaned in closer to Fred, taking in the scent of the redhead, so close he could count the freckles on his unblemished white cheeks, "I don't want you to be afraid anymore."

Harry's mouth fell upon Fred's and the two kissed guilelessly.


	3. Evasion

Chapter III: Evasion

Professor Snape walked up and down the aisles of his classroom, passing out essays he had graded that morning and lecturing them on how if they had been used on their O.W.Ls, surely none of them would ever leave Hogwarts under the age of thirty. Harry burst through the door, panting and ten minutes late. Snape's irritation rose and his temper broke, "Mr.Potter," he began, "How nice of you to join us."

Harry gave the teacher a pleading look as Malfoy began whispering about him to Goyle. Both smirked.

"You're late," he said curtly," b Why? /b " He had no sympathy for the boy, ignorant and vaunting in his mind. He watched him callously as he handed an essay back to Draco, "Good," he muttered to the Slytherin and then sneered at Harry, "Yet I'm afraid I will not be saying the same to you, Mr.Potter." He handed a paper with a thin, spiky D marked in the corner.

Harry looked at it briefly before stuffing it in his bag and sitting down by Dean. Dean smiled sympathetically at him and looked back down at his own essay graded with an A.

"Now," Snape continued, reveling in his authority, "You are to complete the potion written on the board. No doubt it will be on your exam and I expect nothing less than an A from all of you," his eyes traveled back to Harry, who gave an inward groan as the class turned as if puppets to the Potions master, "Although I will have to lower the standards for some of us."

Harry blocked out the rest of the class and began gathering his ingredients. Dean looked at him nervously, "You want me to do this, Harry? You look like you could use a visit to Madame Pomfrey."

Harry nodded, biting back his anger and frustration, overwhelmed with his position in Potion's class and the morning's events, "Thanks."

Dean went to the back of the classroom and Harry pretended to be writing something down as Snape passed. He watched as Dean came back and began dropping spider legs into his cauldron.

Then he heard the voice from the front of the classroom. A light hearted, sensationally familiar voice that rang throughout the dungeon with it's air of antics, "Professor, the Headmaster wants to see Harry." Fred said.

Harry felt all the anger he had inside of him slip away as thought it had been a sort of malevolent serpent as Snape looked at the twin in pure annoyance, "What for?" the teacher demanded.

Fred looked at Snape seriously and said, "I'm afraid that isn't any of your business, now is it?"

Snape's eyes narrowed and he eyed the twin with obvious distrust, "What do you mean it's none of my business, Weasley? I've every right-"

But Harry and had already shoved his things in his bag and was racing down the corridor after Fred, who pulled him into an empty classroom.

Harry gasped, breathless with laughter and exhaustion, "Fred! What- Are you mad?"

He pulled Harry to him, "Yes. I am."

The two kissed, Fred's tongue rolling over Harry's with an undeniable passion and energy. He explored the younger boys mouth, clutching him as if a balloon that may fly away at any moment. The kiss broke and they stood there, grasping and accepting one another. Fred's mouth wandered from Harry's own to his neck and stayed there, sucking in satisfaction. Harry pulled the his head gently so that it met his own and he ran his tongue over Fred's lips before entering where he met a fervor to match his own.

"Nothing will ever take you from me, Fred." Harry said, kissing him gently now.

Fred sighed in beatitude, knowing that nothing ever would, and that no matter what happened, nothing in his life would ever be the same again.

"I want to take care of you," Harry continued. He ran his hands over Fred's back, who was silent in content, "I don't want you to be afraid of anything ever again."

Fred rested his head on Harry's shoulder as he had in his dream. Harry ceased speaking and joined Fred in his nonverbal declamation of love and fidelity. They moved to sit by the wall, both of them leaning upon the other and enjoying the sensation of their unspoken allegiance to one another, knowledgeable that they were immune to all the hurt the world had to offer if only they could stay this way forever.


	4. Falsehood

Chapter IV: Falsehood

Harry and Fred spent the remainder of the class period lying silently together in the classroom. Fred occassionally stroked Harry's raven black hair, but other than that they were still and pensive. Harry was absorbed in his own thoughts of how this had happened so suddenly. He had never felt anything for Fred, his best friend's older brother, until that one moment when he heard him say how afraid he was- or how afraid Lee was, supposedly- and that was when Harry knew that he was afraid of being alone, too, and that together the idea of lonliness would never come across their minds again.

Fred however, thought only of what was going to happen when people found out. Or worse, if no one ever found out. What if Harry treated him the same when they were around their friends? What if he didn't speak to him at all anymore, except for when they lay in eachother's sweet embrace? What would his parents say? What would George say? And what would happen when he left after his seventh year? Harry was still only fifteen, two years younger than his own age. Could he trust Harry alone?

Or would Harry decide he didn't want to waste his life on someone like Fred, who was poor and unambitious about anything but his dream of a jokeshop. But then, hadn't Harry been the one to supply him with the gold? Had Harry always felt this way?

"Harry," Fred began, hoping to ease his doubts.

Harry took Fred's hand and without even looking at him and said, "I love you, Fred."

Fred took his hand and held it against his face, savoring the feeling of the smooth male hand against his skin. The questioning thoughts all died away and Fred accepted what was to come. He lay back down against Harry.

"Do you love me?" Harry asked softly.

Fred hesitated, "I don't know." he answered quietly.

Harry brushed his hand through his ginger hair, "Well take your time," he wrapped his arm under Fred and pulled him closer, "We've got all the time in the world."

George wandered throughout the hallway in anxiety, wondering where on earth his twin could be. If he had decided to skip Transfiguration he would have told him, he was sure of that. He must have fallen ill, but he wasn't in the hospital wing either. Perhaps Filch had caught him- i Doing what, exactly? /i he muttered to himself. Fred hadn't anything up his sleeves- In fact, lately he had become withdrawn and passive. George pondered if this disappearence could have anything to do with his sudden change of heart.

He quickened his pace, beads of sweat beginning to form upon his brow. A light appeared at the end of the corridor and he knew he had found his brother. i This ought to be good... /i The thing was, George didn't know whether to be amused or frightened. He made his way to the door, his hand slipping with frantic perspiration along the cool knob. He opened it briskly, turning from side to side until he saw the face of his twin, his own face staring back at him with identical fear and confusion.

"Fred!" George stopped, feeling as though he had just interrupted something. But what that could be he couldn't imagine, "Why... Why aren't you in class? Are you all right?"

Fred cleared his throat, saying exactly what he had rehearsed on his way to seek out Harry, "Harry fell ill. I got him out of potions. He didn't feel up to the walk to the hospital wing."

George's anticipation remained high. Fred's words seemed stiff, unnatural... i practiced /i , even.

Harry cleared his throat and George noticed him for the first time, "'Lo, George," the boy said tiredly, and even that seemed false.

"What's wrong with him?" George asked, entirely unconcerned with Harry's health. He knew a lie when he heard one, and the intimacy of Fred and Harry had startled him, the way they sat side by side, as if two puzzle pieces created simply for the purpose of fitting together.

"My scar."

"Well maybe-"

Fred stood up, "Listen, George, you better go."

George frowned, "Why?"

"You're missing out on Transfiguration. McGonnagal will be a nightmare when you get back. What was your excuse, anyways?"

"I didn't have an excuse," he said smoothly, a triumphant smile sliding over his face, positive Fred would let him in on a little secret now, "Class is over. It was over twenty minutes ago."

"Well then you're missing another class."

"You of all people should know we never stay for History of Magic," George was beginning to feel hurt now, "What's going on? Won't you tell me?"

Fred looked him hardly in the eye, "Nothing. Just go."

"All right," George left, an unpleasent feeling beginning to grow at the pit of his stomach.

Lee Jordan sat outside, basking in the sunlight that had become rare at Hogwarts. His Defense Against the Dark Arts essay sat unfinished on his lap. The untidy three sentences glared at him from the parchment as a reminder to get back to work, but he ignored it the best he could. It was a beautiful, peaceful day. Perfect for spending alone on the grounds.

" i Lee Jordan /i ," came a cold, drawling voice.

Lee sighed. So much for peace and quiet.

"I thought I'd find you out here." The owner of the voice appeared- A lean, pale boy with a pointed, bored looking face and a surprisingly light hair color when placed next to Lee's.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Lee asked flatly, obviously uninterested.

Draco sneered at him, "I thought you'd like to know that I overhead something interesting about you this morning."

"Oh did you? I wasn't aware you could comprehend other people's conversations when you're occupied with skulking about in the dark," He wrinkled his nose comically at the Slytherin, "No wonder you're so pale."

The confident, leering smirk didn't falter at all and Lee began to ponder over what exactly Malfoy had heard.

"Very funny. And they say faggot's haven't got a sense of humor."

Lee shot up, tense, " b What /b did you say, you little-"

"I thought that would get your attention," Malfoy said smugly. He sat down in front of Lee, sensing his anger happily, "I heard your little friends talking about your..." he searched for the phrase slowly, enjoying his control over Lee, "Your preference of what team you like to play on."

"Malfoy, if you're calling me gay-"

"I i am /i calling you gay, but not without good reason. I was outside, getting ready to practice Quidditch when I heard your dear Weasley friend telling Potter that you were... Well, you know," Draco's smile grew broader as Lee's mouth dropped open.

"George would never say that!"

"Oh, but he did, Jordan. And now I think I'm going to go say it as well."

"No one will believe you," he said, more bravely than he felt, "I'm not gay! Everyone knows Angelina and I are an item."

Draco laughed and shook his head in mock sympathy, "I'm dreadfully, i dreadfully /i sorry, Jordan... But I think the whole school's got the right to know what sort of people we have lurking about the castle-"

Lee grabbed the boy by the collar, "You say one word and I swear I'll fucking hex you so bad they'll take you for fucking dead."

Malfoy's bright grey eyes darkened with a tint of fear, "You wouldn't-"

He tigthened his grip, certain he could break Malfoy in two this moment if he wanted, "Don't tell me what I would or wouldn't do, you fucking bastard. You cunt, I swear I'll fuck you up so badly..." he trailed off in rage and pushed him away from him, sinking his foot between his ribs as he did so. Draco landed heavily on the ground, his face, once so calm and superior, now twisted in pain.

"Stop-"

"No! You fucking want to mess with me?" Lee kicked Malfoy over on his side, the purest form of anger over taking him, "If you're going to come around here and try and fuck me over, then I'm going to-"

"LEE! STOP IT, LEE!"

Lee turned, sweating and cursing, as George came running towards him, "LEE, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING- Bloody hell, look at him!" Lee did so. The satisfaction died as he saw what was once a threatening enemy transformed into a small, beaten, frail teenage boy.

George stared at him in disbelief, "What happened? What did he do?"

"No, George," Lee stepped closer his friend, preparing to fight again, "It's what you did."

"What?" he asked blankly, "Lee, I didn't do anything!"

"Well then why did Malfoy come over and tell me he heard you telling Harry this morning that I was... that I was... Well you know since you said it!"

George blocked Lee's arm as he tried to hit him, "What did I say? I didn't even see Harry until just awhile ago! He was sitting in some classroom with Fred..." his gaze turned into a concerned one, "Tell me, Lee."

Lee blushed furiously and turned away, "Malfoy said you were telling Harry I was gay."

"I did i not! /i "

"You didn't?" Lee asked the twin, desperate to know the truth.

"No! Why would I go and say something as stupid as that?"

"I don't know..." he laughed it off, feeling all right again. George hadn't said anything-

But what made him so certain it had been George who had said it?


End file.
